We are tired of writing about you. You are like a car wreck on the 405 freeway that keeps crashing into the same center divider every damn week. How many times do I have to write top 10 lists of things you didn’t say but are actually capable of saying? I keep defending you by calling you the idiot puppet of your agent and those proverbial forces that control your fate and you keep undermining that position by opening your mouth when the master is away.
Let Grossman do your talking. Your job is not to speak. It is to make Grossman 10% of your salary and a healthy percentage of your endorsement dollars. It is to make New Jersey Cupcake fans cry. It is to forever crush Jeff Vanderbeek’s hopes to sell the team. It is to run Zach Parise out of town. It is not to spew this type of garbage from your pie hole.
“I’ve played in a lot of places where I got booed. It’s their choice to boo or not,” Kovalchuk said. “The Kings are one of the teams that tried to sign me, and the [recruiting] trip here was more for my wife, because she’d never been in L.A., and she wanted to go see it. So we went. But there’s no point in talking about it anymore because I’m proud to be with the New Jersey Devils.” NY Post Article.
Your wife? You came to LA so your wife could see it? Because the money you were making didn’t pay for the flight otherwise?
This moron actually thought he insulted us with this comment. We’re not insulted. We are not even offended. At this point, you are comic relief. Someone else’s tragedy. Our comedy. A sideshow. A Trojan Ass planted inside an otherwise well structured and disciplined team designed to spread its disease until it leaves New Jersey’s brittle bones to the wind.
Back to reality.